Interventions
by JamKaraLee47
Summary: *Finally updated ch5!!* Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.
1. Life Is Like Poker

Interventions  
  
  
  
Summary: Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.  
  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
  
* * * * * *Chapter One: Life Is Like Poker * * * * * *  
  
My defenses are up. I never let my guard down. They too follow the same suit. It's like poker. Keep your opponent guessing, keep on bluffing, and keep on winning.  
  
So far my luck's been good. I get a cushy government job, marry a man who can help me forget my troubles, and bring a brown-eyed, brown-haired baby girl into this world. In a way, I have a full house. But then my past comes mocking me, laying down a royal flush. I fold and give in. All those dead ghost come haunting and it's my turn to leave.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Six years of happiness. Thirteen lives taken. One life to drown.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
I remember the day Laura Bristow died. She had just whipped a 4 star breakfast and answered the endless list of questions Sydney had to offer. 'Why is the sky blue? or 'How come I have to eat spinach?'. Usually, Laura would sweep the six year old of her chair giggling and smear a streak of peanut butter on her cheek. However, this morning Sydney in a toothless grin asked, "Why do people go away?"  
  
Shocked, Laura dropped the pan she held in her hand and cradled the bundle of pain.  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"Jimmy's frog fell asleep and wouldn't wake up and Jimmy's mom said he went away. Are you going to go away too?" she babbled on.  
  
"Siddy," she cooed restraining the tears, "eventually everyone has to go away, even me. But when the do leave this world, they're not completely gone. As long as you remember the good times you had they will always be here." She pointed to the little girl's heart.  
  
"Mommy, promise me you'll never leave me," begged the huddled figure.  
  
Laura's tears shined through her eyes refusing to spill. She hastily put the child down on the chair and made herself busy arranging the plates. "Forget what we discussed, baby. I have to go to work now. Daddy's in the living room if you need anything." She pulled on her light jacket and kissed the girl's cheek which she immediately squirmed and wiped it away.  
  
Laura was sick of lying. But soon it would be over. She careened down the promenade in her red '72 Chevy. In her rear view mirror, she saw a man in an overcoat nod to her. It's now or never Laura thought to herself.  
  
Immediately she stepped on the gas pedal and launched the two ton mass into the Pacific Ocean. Above the waves, people sprinted to the scene of the event punching three simple numbers into pay-phones. Little did they know it was all an act.  
  
Down below, Irina slammed her fist against the weakest part of the window letting water flood into the submersed vehicle. She had to stay down long enough for everyone to believe she was dead and long enough for a passing KGB controlled ship to pick her up. Sucking on the stale air on the tire, images of Jack raced through her mind. He would be in a trance like state too devoted to his work to grieve. That was Jack Bristow's way of dealing with problems. But, Sydney, Sydney was too young to grow up alone. She would be playing with dolls with no one around to pose as Barbie's best friend. Every minute, every second of Laura Bristow's life would be wasted and she could never shape her own daughter's future.  
  
Overhead her thoughts were interrupted by the passing haul of a ship. She scrambled to the surface releasing her grasp from the deflated tires. Hauled aboard she was greeted by her colleague, Igor Valenko, who was currently working as FBI under the name Calder. Accepting the blanket from Valenko, she transformed back into Irina Dereveko devoid of any compassion to the man she used for Intel or the daughter whose future she could have prevented.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
So here I am, I'm at the CIA's beck and call. Do I answer, no not to them. They have no idea what they're up against. The evil, the hatred, the betrayals. After all why would I give up when I have a straight of diamonds. And the only cards that beat those are a royal flush and only one person hold those cards. Only she can control me, the one person I can't control, and for that I respect my daughter.  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Sorry for the confusion. The whole poker analogy will be explained later on  
  
Other questions::  
  
Yes, Sydney was 6 when her mom died in 1981.  
  
Yes, Igor Valenko posed as a FBI agent in the show.  
  
  
  
~Stephanie~ 


	2. Who Needs You The Most

Interventions  
  
  
  
Summary: Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
  
  
  
* * * * * *Chapter Two: Who Needs You the Most * * * * * *  
  
The light flickered on and off in the dank cell. Irina Dereveko was trying her best to remain her cool demeanor, but the bulb was dying and as needed to get some pleasure of annoyance it continued to harass the prisoner.  
  
She thought to herself of the countless ways she used to torture her victims, but this was true agony. Her brain debated whether calling out screaming that the light bulb would be the end of her or just remain composed and wait until the darkness closes in.  
  
Instantly her thoughts were interrupted by the hum of the rising gate. Irina counted the person's footsteps letting a smile creep onto her face. The figure stood before the icy glass offering a smile.  
  
"Sydney," she acknowledged in a monotonous voice.  
  
"I was wondering if you could provide me with some information on what Rambaldi artifacts you possessed?" she asked in a soft, soothing tone.  
  
"Do you remember the antique pendant that I refused to let you touch?" she replied gleefully remembering Sydney's desperate attempt to sneak into her jewelry box. Seeing her mother's delight, she nodded with a sympathetic gesture.  
  
"You would do anything to have it. Do you remember what I told you?"  
  
Unclear of her intention, Sydney raised her eyebrow not in frustration, but in curiosity on where this would lead to. "You said that I could have it when-"  
  
"-you found to true love." The finished simultaneously.  
  
Irina chuckled, "My mother gave it to me and her grandmother gave it to her, and so forth. Your grandmother said that whoever possessed it would have found their true love standing in front of them. Now, I might not have the queen of hearts in my deck, but the day I arrived in L.A., I was wearing that pendant and I saw your father standing in line waiting to board a plane flying to Bombay. He must have caught me staring at him because he turned around and smiled. Even though our relationship, our marriage was a lie, I could never have been more at peace with him."  
  
"What does this have to do with Rambaldi?" she pressed the subject back into play.  
  
Dismissing her question she continued, "Sydney, how come you're all alone?"  
  
"I'm not alone. I have Will and Francie. I have everything I need," she affirmed hoping to convince herself.  
  
"Sydney, that's not what I mean. I don't want you to waste your whole life devoted to a cause that might not disappear in your lifetime or the next. After all, I don't think he can wait that much longer-"  
  
Sydney's head jerk and she snapped, "Will and I have established the fact that we are only friends. Just friends."  
  
"I wasn't referring to that young man." She said in a comforting tone as Sydney's cheeks developed to a rose pink. Moving back to the conversation starter, "The pendant is one of the remaining Ramboldi artifacts. It was introduced to our family by your great-great grandfather who purchased it off an Italian vendor who dismissed its value due to its poor handmanship."  
  
"Where is it now?" she inquired, intrigued by the sentimental and significant meaning.  
  
"The CIA revoked all my personal items when I surrender. You should request for its return," she added as her daughter rose from her chair. "Sydney," she called to the retreating silhouette, "don't forget what we talked about."  
  
Sighing as she exited the holding cell, Sydney knew she had lost this round.  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Hey it's possible that she owned a Rambaldi artifact, after all was she the one he prophesized.  
  
  
  
P.S I know that I switched from first person to 3rd, but throughout the story we will hear the narrator's pov and Irina's ok. She is not the only main character.  
  
Sorry I promised the poker thing would be explained but it will be filled in somewhere near or at the end of the story, it makes it more mysterious.  
  
~Stephanie~ 


	3. Now And Then

Interventions  
  
  
  
Summary: Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
  
  
  
* * * * * *Chapter Three: Now And Then * * * * * *  
  
"My mother isn't someone to trust." I said those words once before. After the lies and her angelic shell had been broken. Underneath was a liar, a thief, and a murderer. But somewhere deep inside, she held onto her first disguise. And in all truth, it wasn't the one fake we thought we knew.  
  
She told me that when I was little that things aren't what we always planned. My whole life, I once considered, could have been different. No more lies to Francie about work, no more pangs of guilt would be felt for mom, no reddened cheeks stained with tears of countless innocence. I could have my friends, my father, a normal life. But then again, could I?  
  
I wouldn't have met my real father, just another mask I see once a year for Christmas, who presents me with a sweater unsure of what to get. I wouldn't have my mother, who I had wished to see just once more my entire life. Or have a major secret I could share with Will. And then again I would be married, tied by the ball and chain of death-do-us-part responsibility.  
  
There was another reason, one I refuse to admit, but everyone else does. If I hadn't involved my life with espionage, I'd never would have a chance with Michael Vaughn. Instead, I would be happily married. Happy? How so? Because I would have never expected more from Danny. Danny showed me that there were singing proposals and two kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. But there could be unspoken language, something he couldn't bestow upon me. A smile, a gesture of a shoulder, and soul bearing glimmer of an eye. But I would have been contented, unknowing on what I would have been missing.  
  
Over and over, she would tell the story of how she met dad and the lucky necklace that nailed him. I always thought it was funny that a necklace could out do dad, but I think it over and reflect and I seems logical from Milo Rambaldi's point of view.  
  
My mother was prophesized to bring all hell to earth, and in a way she did. She desecrated her bonds of marriage with a lie, abandoned her child, slaughtered those in her way, and raised an empire of bandits and assassins, and now she has waltzed back into my life. But, she breathes the same air as me so does that make her so different. After all, I am my mother's daughter.  
  
As I leave the presence of bitterness and deceit, I feel shunned by the world. The blood on my hands, the mutilated lives, and the countless people I wear. For this I must repent. And my savior knows not how I feel.  
  
I'll deal with him later, I always say, but later never comes. I have too many problems and too much history. I'll make up a To Do list and put him down as number 2, since I still have to dig up that pendant. And times always running out.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Down the stairs, first room on your left," the receptionist smiled gleefully. Right then and there Sydney Bristow willed herself not to drop kick her from her cheerfulness. But her brain told her that her mother wanted to hurt her by playing mind games. Then again, sometimes, Irina could be kind and compassionate. Sydney wished she could conceive her mother's intentions.  
  
"Good morning, Agent Bristow."  
  
"Good work in Nice."  
  
Sydney angrily discharged their comments with her inherited death glare and stormed off into the evidence room. Right now the only person she wanted, deserved to hear it from was Vaughn and of all the days, he choose this one to take off.  
  
Walking down the aisles, she stormed up little tornadoes of dust. She drew her finger upon the D sections, skimming the plastic sealed devices and papers. Pausing at the folder marked Classified: Derevko, Irina. She released bits of stale air to the off-white booklet. Reaching for the first unstapled page, she leisurely removed a black and white photo. As she held it to the light, she shifted her free hand to her mouth. Before her was a picture of a man identical to Vaughn encircled with his cold blood still holding his CIA issued gun. Just then, she heard the door to the room creak open.  
  
Hurriedly, she condemned the picture to its secretive grave and fished out a small amber pendant. She enclosed it in her palm and turned to face her intruder. "Hello, Dad."  
  
"Sydney," he nodded his head in recognition to what she was holding. Almost like a guilty child with stolen candy in her hand, she twisted her wrist and lifted her grasp drawing out the tear-drop shaped adornment.  
  
Wearily he unwrapped the ornament and hitched open the clasp. Signaling for her to pull back her hair, she snapped the hook and securely fastened it to her neck. In a whisper he smiled, "It looks good on you."  
  
She simply grinned. Then he continued his father charade, "Did you're mother tell you of that necklace. She probably did."  
  
"Yeah, she told me how it supposedly destined you to meet."  
  
"Yes, it was a nice story," he frowned slightly as if her existence made him a hundred years older, "Be careful, she charmed her way to me, she can do the same."  
  
Sydney faintly fumed, "Can. It doesn't mean she will."  
  
"It doesn't mean she won't," he replied as the bridge they built over the year crumbled in front of his eyes, "Good evening, Sydney." He stepped from the under the overhead light leaving Sydney to contemplate his words.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
When all goes chaotic, Jack comes riding in on his white horse to create more mishaps.  
  
Hope you liked it. REVIEW.  
  
~Stephanie~ 


	4. Florida Or California

Interventions  
  
  
  
Summary: Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
  
  
  
* * * * * *Chapter Four: Florida or California * * * * * *  
  
Sydney picked up her cell as she wept away spiteful tears. She needed someone, anyone to talk to. As she quickly skimmed her fingers over numbers she knew by heart, but never called, she decided it's his day off. He shouldn't have to worry over me everyday. Considering all the factors, she punched in the numbers and listened for the end of the dial tone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey Francie, it's me."  
  
"Me who?" Francie replied jokingly, but after a long pause she added in a concerned tone, "Honey, what's wrong?"  
  
Choking back the tears, she regained her voice, "I'm leaving work early, so I'll be home for dinner."  
  
Unsure she agreed, "Okay. Hey you know what? I'll leave work in a few and we can talk. Of course, that involves one of us picking up a gallon of chocolate chip ice cream?" she ended tantalizingly.  
  
Sydney sour expression grew to a slight grin, "I'll pick it up. Need anything else?"  
  
"Some oranges. Will has a really bad cold and I promised not to act all motherly with the whole chicken soup fiasco, so I'm going to whip up some homemade orange juice. He'll be fine in no time." She rambled.  
  
"Yes mother," she stated in a sarcastic pitch, "I'll see you at home. Bye."  
  
"Wait until you get sick. Who's going make your juice then?"  
  
With that Sydney exited the freeway and pulled into the parking lot of Key Food.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, Michael Vaughn was sulking in his home pining for a solution to his problem. His life at work and his life at home had come at a crosswords, which he properly named the intersection, Sydney. The only other person who knew of his dilemma was at work. Weiss, why the hell did you have to take a sick day so you could get drunk and burn the apartment down? he ranted to himself. Thankfully, Weiss' shift would be over in a few hours. But until then, what was he supposed to do?  
  
Just then his stomach growled. Hobbling over to the refrigerator, he yanked the door open. Half a bottle of beer, Heinz ketchup, mustard, batteries, and an unfamiliar container with some green speckles. Figuring, it was time to go shopping he grabbed his jacket and strolled out into the street.  
  
  
  
Pushing the cart, she noticed that every so often the cart would swerve considerably to the right. She struggled against the current and reached into the freezer for ice cream. However, her mind was in its own world pondering her mother's remarks. Subconsciously, she ran her thumb over the sleek amber surface too engulfed in her thoughts.  
  
She considered buying the California oranges, but then again the drought did affect the crops. Of course, Florida oranges were always an option, but they were packaged and hauled halfway across the country so the could be spoiled by now. Wait a minute since when do I put in so much thought into oranges? Just pick one and pay, Sydney!  
  
"Excuse me, miss," she felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around to see an elderly lady, "could you hand me that plastic bag over there?." Involuntarily, she grabbed the bag and watched the lady leave in disgust.  
  
'If only mom could mind her own business. Why can't she leave me alone? If it wasn't for her she would have never obtained the necklace, have to hear the sappy love story, reassess her love life, she wouldn't have to think about Michael Vaughn.' She hurled a bag of California oranges into her shopping cart and stormed out down the aisle. In a complete fury, she didn't see the cart in front of her until it was too late. Her shopping cart crashed into another one, contents spilling to the floor.  
  
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she poured out as she rushed to pick up the spoiled goods.  
  
"You know you should have bought the Florida oranges, they taste sweeter than the ones from the local groves," replied the voice.  
  
Gradually she lifted her head and smiled. Crouched on the floor with her was Vaughn. She fought to find words to somehow make the situation even the tiniest bit un-awkward. Vaughn caught on and restarted their conversation, "No work today?"  
  
She rubbed the back of her neck and stammered, "Oh, no. I had work, but left early."  
  
"Kendall being an ass again?" he inquired as he stood up.  
  
"No, I just," she stopped. They shouldn't be talking in public about work.  
  
The awkward environment once more settled about them and each looked for a way out. Vaughn catching onto the "strangers act" motioned to her neck, "That's a beautiful necklace. Did, uh, Will get it for you?"  
  
Noting his jealous inquisition, she swiftly corrected the assumption, "No, my mom gave it to me, it was from her mother, and so on. It was bound to come my way." She chose her words carefully as fragments of her conversation came flooding back.  
  
'Your grandmother said that whoever possessed it would have found their true love standing in front of them.' The phrase uttered by her mother resounded in her mind.  
  
Vaughn watched Sydney's face draw a blank. Clearing his throat, he reintroduced her to reality, "It was nice bumping into you, literally."  
  
"Oh sorry about that, but it was nice meeting you," she exchanged a handshake and rolled her ramshackle cart to the cashier. Taking a mental note, she reminded herself to talk to Irina.  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
That was so predictable I promise the next chapter will be better. I was struggling with paying attention to Mid terms and my other story.  
  
There will be a scene with Vaughn and Irina in a chapter or two.  
  
The anonymous review problem has been fixed so review like crazy!!  
  
~Stephanie~ 


	5. Stronger Than Before

Interventions  
Summary: Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
* * * * * *Chapter Five: Stronger Than Before * * * * * *  
  
AN: Sorry for the long update. No flames please...  
  
The rest of his vacation leave was spent pondering Sydney and her necklace. His mind replayed the image of her cradling it protectively in her fingers. And for once he felt threatened. Not by the necklace, but by the previous owner. It was time for him to confront his past to preserve his future.  
He tapped his fingers against the glass, holding all restraint to smash it in. The rhythmic vibrations resounded through the holding cell and caught the ear of its prisoner. She outstretched her left leg supporting herself in a cat like perch. Then with a fluid motion to her bended knee, she snapped into a protective stance. Bearing into her clenched fists, she shook off her drowsiness.  
  
"Dozing off on the job, Irina. Otherwise you would have realized my entrance minutes ago," he maliciously attacked.  
  
"Tsk. Tsk. You know better than that, Agent Vaughn, if you want my help," she approached his stoic posture radiating with contempt, "My, my, Agent Vaughn seems we are highly perturbed." She languidly flicked her wrist and index finger at the wrinkled manila envelope.  
  
"I'm not here to discuss business, rather personal involvement with a CIA agent," bile rising in his throat.  
  
"Ah, my daughter. You know you and Jack are quite alike," she mused pacing back and forth, "He too thinks I have some ulterior motive to my reentry to your world. I simply want to help my only child, I'm sure your father was protective of you when you were little." A devious grin and squinting eyes stared straight at him waiting for the next move.  
  
His gaze shifted to his tie and uneasily traveled to Irina, "As you probably suspect, everyone in this agency is hesitant to your intervening matters on Sydney's missions and prying into her personal life. Such as exchanging gifts for tidbits of information."  
  
Irina's eyes widened and a astonished glaze played upon her lips, "So you noticed the necklace, now?"  
  
He cleared his throat, "I saw her in the grocery that day. It seemed as if she had just receive it."  
  
"So you notice what she wears now." She crossed her arms inquisitively.  
  
Flustered he tried to explain his predicament with Sydney in a less awkward tone. "No, that's not what I mean. I meant to say, she was quite happy to engage conversation over it."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, "So you rather have her forget that she even had a mother. Is that what you are suggesting Mr. Vaughn?"  
  
Regaining some balance and dignity he continued, "I'm warning you from intruding on her life so quickly. After all these years of being independent and resourceful, you expect her to lean on your shoulder and cry."  
  
"No, don't expect her to depend on me that's what she has you for," she replied coldly, her hurt eyes betrayed her superior image.  
  
"So that's what it's all about. You want her to include you in her manifested life she's built," a mute and defiant stare paralyzed his insides. Daggers emitting from her eyes as her secret intention was revealed. Vaughn apparently seeing that conversing with her was like swimming upstream withdrew his position.  
  
"I don't have to put up with this," he mumbled raising his hands in a sign of defeat. He retreated to the guard when he heard her speak up.  
  
*  
  
"You're stronger than him," she directed an intrigued smirk at his almost turned back. Vaughn returned her a quizzical look as if to ask who, but then again he knew whom she was referring to and that was one road he refused to travel.  
  
Catching his exchange from both emotions she pushed her luck farther, "If he where in you place now, he wouldn't have taken any personal opinions from me. Yet, you Mr. Vaughn put up with my domineering behavior, do you know why?" Her smirk tightened into an amused smile.  
  
Still rejecting to face his enemy, he whispered over his shoulder, "It's because I have something he never had."  
  
"She's the one thing that keeps us living. Ironic that we share at least one thing in common," Disgusted by her comparison he stepped out from the overcast light, he forced his way through the security gates that barred his mind.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
If you didn't get the line ".It was time for him to confront his past to preserve his future."  
  
Pair it up with these lines,  
  
"..you expect her to lean on your shoulder and cry." (Vaughn)  
  
"No, don't expect her to depend on me that's what she has you for" (Irina)  
  
He doesn't want to be replaced get it! I hope so because someone else didn't so I had to clarify it.  
  
~Stephanie~ 


End file.
